


A Singular Indulgence

by Anonymous



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In another life, a sellsword walks into a brothel, and buys a night with a silver-haired beauty.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55
Collections: Anonymous





	A Singular Indulgence

As an exiled knight with limited means, Jorah tries to avoid spending much time in brothels. They’re money pits designed to part a man from his well-earned coin. But there’s some sort of murderous Essosi festival on that made getting any sort of lodging a joke, and since he was unusually well-paid for his last engagement as a sellsword, he figured he might as well. What he wanted was a bath and a bed, and the way to have those was to buy a girl out for the night.

While he has avoided these places, one pretty little thing has drawn his eye. Her silver hair shines even in the poorly lit room, and there’s something about her beyond the youthful, lithe curves of her body in her silken blue dress. Something Jorah would almost swear is familiar, though he’s never seen her before in his life.

Unfortunately, it might be having a sense of shame, but a brothel like this will probably work that out of her soon enough. She’s lovely enough that if she’d been born in Braavos, she might have become one of their famous courtesans, but unfortunately she is here, and the only indignity she has been spared is a tattoo marring her face. She looks at him with those large, light eyes, a faint air of surprise in her face when she takes in his dark clothes that look so strange in Essos. Guessing at her origins, he greets her and introduces himself in the broken bastard Valyrian he’s picked up in his travels.

“ _Ser_ Jorah? Are you from my country?” she asks, in an unexpectedly perfect Common Tongue.

“You’re not Lyseni?” he asks, quite taken aback, and suddenly she frowns, eyebrows drawing together in discontent.

“Never mind, it isn’t important.” Jorah suspects the message of the “training” she has ostensibly recently finished is that _she_ is not important, at least for her conversational skills. Frankly, they aren’t the skills that interest Jorah either. He nods to the manager of the place, and after he finishes his drink, the girl leads him through a maze of corridors lined by all too thin walls to a surprisingly clean, if overly warm room with a large tub.

She says her name is Dany.

When Jorah eases himself into the bath, the water is still warm enough to soothe his aches, but not so hot that it stings his skin. Dany busies herself by neatly folding up his clothing and carefully placing his things on a table. Though he hadn’t asked for assistance, she picks up a sponge and soap and starts to wash him, starting with his hands and arms, mindful of the scrapes and scratches that she can see. The way she scrubs his back, on the other hand, feels almost aggressive. She also tries to massage his shoulders, which is pleasant, though her hands are not very strong, and he imagines the muscles are a rock of tension by this point. There’s something delicate about her, and he suspects she hasn’t been in this place for very long.

Still, Jorah has no illusions about what her duty is here, and if he hadn’t been absolutely filthy, he would have considered suggesting she join him. She doesn’t make eye contact as she dips her sponge into the water, drawing circles over his belly until she reaches his cock, already stirring in the water. He sighs as she wraps her hand around him, but he reaches for her wrist after a few strokes. He hasn’t had a woman in ages, and he’s not going to take the chance that he’ll finish in here.

“I should probably wash what’s left of my hair,” he says, hoping to make her smile, and it briefly works. He does so while Dany gathers some drying sheets. He steps from the bath and takes the sheets from her to dry himself, while she waits a little awkwardly to the side.

That leaves the bed. Dany leads him to a smaller room, decorated with gaudy silks meant to invoke luxury and scented with incense. She stands beside the bed and slips the straps of her dress from her shoulders so that it floats to the ground. She turns slowly in front of him, letting him get a proper look at what he’s purchased. Her beauty really is exceptional – he would be surprised if she was here long before someone bought her from her employer and took her for a concubine, though perhaps he’s biased after his own experiences.

“How do you want me?” she asks, frank and with no effort at seduction whatsoever. Jorah’s northern heart – or his cock, at least- likes the directness, no silly Southron flirting or hazy Essosi poetry.

“How do most men want you?” he asks, suddenly curious. Dany shrugs slightly.

“On my hands and knees, usually. Sometimes on my belly. If they’re lazy they want me to ride them.”

Jorah smirks, tilting his head towards her. “Maybe they just want to look at you.”

“Maybe,” she says softly. She doesn’t offer him anything else.

“On your back, if that’s all right. I prefer to see a woman’s face.” Though Jorah has to admit he might regret that, her expression suggests she’d prefer to look at the pillows. Still, Dany crawls onto the bed, arranges herself in a suitably relaxed pose, something almost defiant in her face.

“May I touch you?” he asks, feeling like an idiot when she looks back at him in disbelief. Half the men she’s serviced have probably pushed her face down into the mattress and fucked her. “It’s polite to ask,” he adds.

“I suppose?” she says, her eyes darting a little nervously. Jorah can’t blame her, the touching she gets here probably varies in its gentleness. But as much as he enjoys fucking, he likes all of a woman, and he likes seeing a woman enjoy what he’s doing to her.

Dany’s breasts are generous for her small frame, and Jorah savors cupping them in his hands and exploring them in his mouth. He tastes the salt of her skin, feeling her back arch beneath him. He nuzzles below her breasts, tugs her nipples into his mouth to feel them grow taut and round against his tongue. He feels her shudder and thinks this is starting to seem more like he expects bedding a woman to be. Feels, sounds, looks – and as he catches the scent of her arousal, he has a thought that pulls him from her breasts to lick and taste his way down over her ribs, to her navel and the soft skin beneath it.

Her scent only grows stronger as he meets the silvery curls between her thighs. He might loathe the song, but he really is a bear for honey. Jorah pulls her trembling legs over his shoulders, glancing up at her wide eyes. He supposes that this isn’t normally how a man chooses to spend his time with her, and that might explain why she looks unsettled, even a little afraid. That look tugs at something deep within him, and it isn’t his chivalry.

“If you truly don’t like it, then tell me,” he says, and sweeps over her cunt with a leisurely lick. He hears a sharp breath, feels tension in her thighs, but she doesn’t speak. Jorah takes that as an invitation, and starts to explore her, sucking on her swollen inner folds, lapping up the nectar that drips from her, losing himself in the taste of a beautiful women. He peeks up from his place, nose buried in the warm nest of her silver curls, and she’s looking at the ceiling, her hands clutching the sheets in a death grip. He can do better than that, he decides, and starts to focus his attentions on the little bud above her entrance, swiping with his tongue and sucking gently between his lips. This, finally, seems to get her attention. Her heels dig against his ribs, and her breathing changes, from soft, staggered gasps to steady panting. Her wetness soaks his beard, suggesting pleasure even as she grimaces like she is in pain. He changes his technique and fucks her with his tongue, keeping gentle, circling pressure against the tight little knot of flesh with his thumb, holding her hips down with his arm.

Jorah pulls back with a grunt when her little foot accidentally finds a bruise on his side. The distraction brings his attention to his own need, and he decides that he’s drunk his fill. Crawling over her slight, quivering body seems to awaken a forgotten part of him, like a predator stirring from a long winter’s sleep. Dany is wet and tight and perfect as he plunges inside her. When he groans it is with relief, freedom after years of restraint and avoiding temptations that could bring him to even more ruin.

She’s better at faking her enthusiasm for this, he notices. Dany meets his thrusts and cries out with the eagerness of a lover. This should cheapen what he’s feeling but gods, it’s like her body was made for him, seeming to cling to his cock every time he pulls back, making him feel flush with lust as he watches her roll her hips and toy with her own breasts. He slows his movements lest he finish too quickly; he’s paid for a night and he’ll take as much of it as he can. Dany opens her eyes and stares at him, lips parting slightly as if she wants to speak, but doesn’t dare.

Honestly, he’s starting to think men take her on hands and knees because otherwise she’s downright unsettling, the ghost of Old Valyria gazing into one’s eyes. He swallows, noticing his arms are starting to ache, and eases down onto his elbows, where he’s rewarded with press of her breasts against him and her thighs squeezing his waist. Her plush mouth opens wider – and doesn’t that give him ideas – and she sighs.

“That feels good,” she says, her eyes fluttering as if she’s dreaming. Jorah honestly can’t tell if she’s pretending or not, but he’s not sure he cares as long as she feels so hot, so lush. He swears she feels better with every stroke, warmer and as soft as expensive velvet. Little jolts of pleasure sustain him, until she’s so wet that he has to move faster, which makes her gasp.

“You like that?” Jorah growls against her ear. Dany nods, breathing harder, her fingernails dragging up his back. He steals a kiss, tugging at that plump bottom lip with his teeth, hot waves of desire coming faster and faster as he seems to find new depths to the heat inside her. Her body clenches around him, she starts gasping so quickly that he thinks she might faint, and Jorah realizes that just now she isn’t pretending at all. She comes with a desperate cry, her hand fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Jorah knows he can’t last much longer after that. He only manages a few more thrusts before he pulls out to spill his seed over her stomach. Falling onto his back to catch his breath, he barely has time to open his eyes again before she rolls off the bed.

“I – That doesn’t usually happen,” she says softly, looking away from him as she washes up.

“What doesn’t usually happen?” Jorah squints at her in the darkness. The candles are low now, and the sun was down long ago, so he can only make her out by the paleness of her skin and hair as she stands before the wash basin.

“You know what,” she snaps, then sighs. “My apologies, ser.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He was trying to tease her, and some twisted piece of him likes that her own pleasure makes her uncomfortable, but he supposes he could be knightly enough to rescue her from her own temper.

“An old habit, my lady. I’m from a small island. You do a lousy job fucking one woman, every other woman for miles will hear about it.” This actually makes her laugh, and for a moment he can imagine her in a different life, charmed and loved and happy. Still, Jorah’s ready to be done talking.

“Come to bed,” he says.

“I – don’t really do that,” Dany says from the darkness.

Jorah frowns. “You don’t sleep?”

“I – I don’t know if I should.” He hears the rustling of light fabric. “No one’s ever asked for a whole night. I don’t know the rules.”

“I believe the rules are that you’re here for my pleasure. And my pleasure is to have you here, not – flitting about the room.” Jorah extends his hand, which Dany, wrapped in a robe of gray silk, ignores while she tentatively approaches the bed, clearly ill at ease as she perches at the edge of the mattress. He supposes that will do, and turns on his side, attempting to beat the pillow into some semblance of a cushion.

“You actually want to sleep?” Dany asks. _Oh._ Her hesitation made a bit more sense in the context of fearing some sort of ploy. He doesn't want to know what she was worried he might do.

“Aye, I spent half the day looking for someplace to do that.” He looks at her bemusedly. “If I want you again I’ll wake you first.”

He blinks back into awareness hours later to find her beside him, her waist pinned beneath his outstretched arm. She’s fast asleep, not even stirring when he gets up to relieve himself and wash away some of the humid night’s stickiness at the basin. The hour isn’t quite dawn, but there is enough light for him to study her as he settles next to her again, his cock stirring at the sight of her curves and the memory of the heat found within her flesh. He breathes in the soft scent of her skin, no longer clouded by the perfume she wore at night. With a gentle tug of his hand, the sash of her robe falls open.

“Dany,” he murmurs against her ear, and she jerks awake with a gasp.

“Ser?” She glances downward, sees his rough hand splayed over the pale planes of her stomach. A flicker of fear passes over her features, but she either schools it away, or isn’t actually worried that he’ll hurt her at this point. With her little hand, she nudges him back, and burns a trail with her mouth down to his half-erect penis. She strokes him with her hand, and stares into his eyes as she closes her lips over him, laving little circles around the head with her tongue. Jorah groans, any thoughts of what he was waking her for suddenly gone from his mind.

“You like that?” she asks with a seductive smile, and he remembers asking her the same question last night.

“I think you can tell,” he replies, and she smiles a little before taking him into her mouth again. Jorah hasn’t been indulged this way since the early days of his marriage to Lynesse, but he’s had it enough in his life to know she has a gift for it, eagerly sucking and licking, practically pulling him down her throat. Her plush lips stretch around him, as Jorah runs his hand up her thigh to dip his fingers into the furrow there. She hums as he lazily starts to stroke her, breath huffing through her nose. Watching her is a little too much – he closes his eyes, savoring her lush mouth and how slick she is growing at his touch. He could finish easily in her mouth, but he liked feeling her come on his cock; he’ll have that again if he can. He opens his eyes, swallows down his own eagerness, and reaches down to brush his thumb against her rosy cheek. She releases him with a wet pop, staring again with those eyes. He suspects she didn’t expect an interruption.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks nervously, and Jorah again finds it oddly, perversely arousing, like there is pleasure to be found in disconcerting her, frightening her. Quite unchivalrous of him, and not a game he has time for – the morning will come soon enough.

“Not a thing,” Jorah says instead. He brushes the robe from Dany’s shoulders, revealing all of her to him. Her flesh stipples with goosebumps where he lets his touch fall, her nipple hardening into a pebbled peak as he flicks his thumb over it. She makes her body pliant, lets him mold her into the position he wants, on her side with her back pressed to his chest. Jorah wedges a leg between hers, parting her thighs, and just eases himself inside her, relishing the slow slide into her sweet little cunt, wet from his probing fingers. Dany breathes harder, whining a little as he kisses the delicate skin of her neck.

“Men take you on your hands and knees,” he murmurs in her ear, “Because it’s satisfying. Deep and hot, animal even.”

“So why don’t you?” Dany asks, rocking her hips a little, though her position and his grip leave her little room to manuever.

“I like to earn it,” Jorah says, keeping his thrusts small and measured. It would be easy to lose control and pound at her like a dog, but he knew from last night that she was a delicacy to be slowly enjoyed. “I’ll make you want to take every inch.” He licks his fingers and starts massaging her little pearl, making her moan and squeeze even more tightly around his cock. Dany hooks a foot behind his leg and grinds her hips against him, making a frustrated noise.

“More,” she pleads, and he slides deeper into her, still not quite completely inside her, but enough that he can feel her desire coating his manhood. He’s so hard that he’s having trouble thinking; she makes him feel like he’s seventeen again, ready to fuck practically anything.

“Do you need this?” He murmurs, smearing her wetness over her folds with calloused fingers. “Need all of my cock inside you?”

“Yes, _please_ ser,” Dany begs, and how could he hold back, when she asks so politely? If it’s an act, Jorah doesn’t care. He drives inside her, one hand pressed to her belly. He braces himself by grabbing the edge of the mattress so that he can thrust harder and deeper, and moans when she takes over stroking herself, rubbing herself more furiously than he would have dared and catching his cock in the process. He loses himself to sensation and the warm embrace of her body. Her peak isn’t as dramatic as the night before, but he feels her pulsing around him, her voice breaking on a desperate cry. He doesn’t have time to stop himself from spending inside her, his body tightening and exploding in release only seconds later.

Instinctively, Jorah pulls Dany back tightly against him. He can feel her panting, her chest rising and falling against his arm, sweaty skin damp against his own. For just a few seconds, he nuzzles her silver hair and lets his imagination drift to what it would be like to have a woman like Dany.

Then he reminds himself that he did, and it all came to disaster in the end. He releases her, rolling away, and feels the mattress dip as she slips from the bed again. Tiredness washes over him anew, and he dozes off as she draws curtains across the window to hide from the early morning light.

In his dreams, someone tenderly brushes the hair back from his forehead, but when he turns to see who she is, he cannot find her.

Hours later, Jorah is dressed with his sword in its peacock scabbard strapped to his hip. He will seek work today, but even so his mood is lighter, he feels rested and ready. Dany’s temperament may run hot and cold but he can’t fault her performance in the end.

“You should return sometime,” Dany says with a coy smile. “I don’t often have gentle company.”

Jorah raises his eyebrows. “If I am your gentle company, this place is even worse than I thought.”

Dany shrugs. “You are a knight, and you didn’t ask me to do anything disgusting. That passes for gentle here.” Her hands carefully adjust his scarf. “And I wouldn’t mind spending time with you again.” She can’t look him in the eye and her cheeks flush slightly with those words, and if Jorah didn’t know that having regular visitors was to her benefit, he’d think it was a pure truth. But he knows better than to trust a woman in her position, and he can’t afford to make a habit of luxuries like this.

“Perhaps,” Jorah says instead, and lifts her hand to her lips to kiss it, just above her pretty pearl ring. He is an anointed knight, after all. Then he turns and leaves her behind, hoping someone with a kind heart might take her for their own, for a place like this would treat her ill before long. He knows well that the world is full of men who do not try to call their beastly parts to heel, and brothels like these, where few questions are asked, are their stomping grounds.

Just in case though, he’d have to make sure there was extra coin in his purse the next time he passed through this city.


End file.
